Park & Eleanor
by whynotcheese
Summary: He was still drunk on her. Every aspect of her still got to him in ways he couldn't quite capture. And although time had past, and time is supposed to heal all wounds, he still wasn't over her yet. He could never get over her. It sounded like such a terrible thing to do to such a beautiful thing between them. So no, he hadn't moved on. He couldn't bring himself to. He'd just go on
1. Chapter 1

_**park**_

It stung a little less every time he heard her name now. Even after all these years, she'd managed to stick with him. Every time he'd think about those comic books it stung a little less. When he heard "Love Will Tear Us Apart", he found himself cringing less and less. The knife in his head with her name on it had dulled down. Now, the pain of her was bearable. He hardly thought of her anymore.

His mother was always saying something about her coming back. Park brushed it off, used to it now, but he still had that little glimmer of hope inside of him that she was right. He didn't really think about it that much, though. He hardly thought of her anymore.

He still saw girls with that mop of hair. Of course, none of them had fishing lures in them, but they still sparked something inside of him. Those curly mops were becoming more and more popular and that began to worry him. But it didn't matter when those same girls wore a tie, or an array of scarves on their wrists. It didn't hurt as much. He hardly thought of her anymore.

That postcard was on his wall. After praying over it what felt like a thousand times, he decided that he needed to stop crying over it, more literally than metaphorically. Because there's no use crying over spilt milk. Or those three words on the back. But none of that mattered. He hardly thought of her anymore.

He was still with Cat. She gave him what he needed, and that was enough to get him by. Whenever he was sad, he had Cat. Whenever those thoughts began to haunt him, he had Cat. Because who was he kidding. He thought of her all the time.

But love didn't really exist. No one could ever compare to her. He figured his parents were just really fortunate, and that was the only reason they were still together. He didn't love Cat. He couldn't bring himself to love Cat. But he loved Eleanor.

Eleanor.

_Eleanor._

Fuck. He still loved her.


	2. Chapter 2

**_park_**

He found himself picking up the paper that morning. It was heavy in his hands. Since she left, he found himself reading the paper. He'd skim the articles for her name. He'd read through the marriages and obituaries to see if someone related to her was in them. So he almost choked when he saw it.

_"…has died of a severe case of Mallory-Weiss syndrome. The funeral will be next Friday at 7. All are welcome." _

Park's mind worked to translate what was being said. Cat was taking a medical course. She'd made him read out of Grey's Anatomy book because she was too lazy to do it herself. And then it hit him; a Mallory-Weiss tear was a tear of the stomach. He remembered back to when he kicked that icy sludge into his mouth after she'd left. Did he swallow a rock or something? Did Park essentially kill Richie?

A smile crossed his face. She would've thanked him. He would sweep her up in his arms and they'd run off into the sunset together. It'd be great. She'd tell him how she loved him and he'd just place kisses all over her like he'd been longing to do.

But then he had a thought. Even though she hated Richie, she loved her mom. At least to the extent of his knowledge he did. And she was still with Richie up until now. What if she came back for his funeral? What if he got to see her again? To touch her even?

Sometimes he hated himself for bringing her back again.


	3. Chapter 3

**_eleanor_**

Every fiber of her being fought with her as she loaded up the bag. All of her cells screamed for her to run back inside. The sciatic nerves, what of them were left, had resorted to giving her healthier alternatives. Maybe she could find a box of Twinkies. Maybe she could write a novel. Maybe she could run a mile. No, she wouldn't be doing that.

The internal battle kept on as she looked over at her nightstand. Her now outdated walkman was peeking above the drawer. She'd tried her hardest to remember any of the mix-tapes that Park had made for her. Of course, luck hated her. She remembered what she could and put it on a tape. Fortunately, that small collection was enough to get her through everything that happened after she left.

On an impulse grab, she shoved the walkman into her bag along with a pack of batteries. She could just see how Ben or Maisie would look at her when they saw it. But she couldn't blame herself. She had to prepare herself somehow, right?

It was like she could already feel him. Like she was already blanketed in solely his memory. Knots wound up in her stomach.

But what if she really did see Park? What if Park was with another girl? Would she be jealous? Obviously.

She fought with her subconscious to change the subject.

Her poor mother must be a wreck.

She could vividly remember the call they'd shared when she first ran away. Her mother's voice was cracked, and it sounded as if Richie had drained all of the life from her. And at that moment in time, she felt terrible about leaving. But then again, some saint (who she'd definitely be high-fiving if she ever found out who that might be) had made it much easier on her once she'd left. Richie was a huge weight on her mother's shoulders, it seemed. And now that he was gone, she was free. Eleanor might even get to move back home, if you could call that hellhole a home. Although she doubted the kids would take it lightly, she hoped they'd want to support their mom like Eleanor did. Her mother really needed it.

That in mind, Eleanor grabbed more clothes. She knew that she'd be staying as long as her mother was willing to have her, whether that was a good idea or not.


End file.
